Inhuman (27 page)

“How much time did my dad spend with you when he was here?”

Rafe wiped his chin on his sleeve with an exaggerated groan. “Are we doing the sibling rivalry thing again? ’Cause you win. Every category, every time.”

“I just don’t get why he didn’t tell me he was a fetch. I mean, I
understand
it logically. But it feels like he lied to me.”

“He did. So what?”

“So what?” I snapped. Cosmo glanced from Rafe to me, looking nervous.

“He didn’t want you worrying about him.” Rafe chucked the empty can into the sink. “He wants you to be happy and safe. And that’s a
good
thing, having someone look out for you like that.”

How was I supposed to be happy or safe if something happened to my dad? “I’m going out to the lake,” I said abruptly. There was no explaining anything to this boy.

“I’ll come with you.”

I needed to pee. As much as I hated the idea of being outside alone, the thought of Rafe hearing me urinate was worse. “No.” I pulled on my borrowed boots but didn’t tie them. “I want privacy.”

Rafe looked like he was about to argue but then he shrugged. “Yell if you see anything with teeth.”

The morning echoed with woodpeckers’ knocking and the love songs of frogs. Stomping through milkweed and patches of black-eyed Susans, I made my way to the reeds where hopefully I couldn’t be seen from the porch. Nearby a gaggle of geese were preening their feathers in the sun. They were huge birds and made me a little nervous — which was pathetic. I’d come face-to-face with a chimpacabra and piranha-bats, and now I was scared of a few geese? They didn’t even have teeth, so I had no excuse to yell for Rafe. Not that I would have.

My boots and pants were soaked with dew by the time I reached a dense patch of cattails near the water’s edge. After taking care of my most pressing need, I pushed through the stalks topped with fluffy seed heads and found a rocky patch of shore where I could hunker and wash my hands. The lake was sparkling, clear, and excruciatingly cold. I lifted my dial and got some shots of the lake and autumn colors.

I tucked my dial into my shirt, kicked off my boots, rolled up my pants, and waded in. The chill bordered on painful, but it was exactly the kind of jump-start I’d been hoping for. Now I just needed to find my dad’s messenger bag. I pivoted to scan the bank behind me, only to have my guts turn to liquid.

The dogs from last night were back.

They slunk through the reeds, spreading out along the bank. They might be half-starved, but they were huge and, worse, smart enough to stay silent as they surrounded their prey — me. I inhaled sharply, preparing to scream for Rafe to bring the gun when the pack leader stopped short and pricked up his ears. The black mutt lifted his snout to the wind and then dropped into a crouch with a whine.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The enormous dog began to back off. With its hackles raised, the mutt glared past me to the woods on the other side of the lake. A low growl rose from its throat. Underbrush crunched somewhere behind me. I was desperate to turn and see what the dog was sensing, but I couldn’t take my eyes from the rest of the pack. One of them might still crash into the shallow water and leap for my throat. But no, they all crept back as they too sniffed the air. Whatever was prowling through the trees had the whole pack cowering. And if these dogs were terrified, I knew I’d better run too. The lead dog gave a sharp bark that ended in a yelp, and then as one, the pack reeled about and raced up the hill out of sight.

“You looked like you could use some help,” a deep voice purred.

I whirled to see Chorda, the tiger-man, step out of the woods.

Chorda didn’t seem surprised to come across me so far from Moline. Had he followed us?

Rafe would tell me to scream and run away. As if sensing my hesitation, Chorda opened his arms wide, showing me that he was unarmed. He wore only thin black running pants. Despite his imperfect upper lip and downy striped fur, I could see the double image in his face, like an Escher drawing, the human beneath the tiger.

“Thank you for scaring them off.” My words were little more than an exhale.

His auburn eyes traveled the length of me, slow and deliberate, which set my nervous system buzzing. I wanted to flee but I squashed the impulse. Everyone probably ran from him. I wouldn’t be one more person making him feel bad about the way he looked. “What are you doing here?” I asked, wading out of the shallow water. I wouldn’t run from him, but I would keep my distance.

“I should be asking you that.” His voice was deep and rough. Mesmerizing. Yet unnerving too, like the rumbling of distant thunder. “I live here.”

“In the woods?”

“No.” He flashed a smile that revealed his disturbingly large canine teeth. “In a house back that way.” He waved a striped hand at the trees behind him. “I came to get water, and found this by the lake.” He unslung my messenger bag from his shoulder, which he’d been carrying the whole time. I hadn’t even noticed. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

I sighed in relief. “Yes.”

He nodded toward the cottage. “I was going to leave it on the porch.”

I pushed through the reeds and stepped onto the grass. He held out the bag. I hesitated. There was something so odd about him. A strangeness I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe it was the intense way he was watching me.

“I see,” he said softly. “You’re scared of me.” His whole body seemed to sag a little. “I’ll leave it here and go.” He bent to put the messenger bag down.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, feeling terrible. I hurried forward and he placed the bag gently into my outstretched hand. But when he lifted his fingers to my face, I stiffened. He traced a fingertip down the curve of my cheek. Had I imagined that he’d had claws when he was caught in Rafe’s trap?

“You are the most human of humans,” he said and dropped his hand to his side. “What are you doing here, Lane?”

I relaxed. After hearing about ferals from Rafe yesterday — how they drooled, growled, and tried to bite anyone who got close — I could tell that this man didn’t have “animal brain.” What was the harm in answering his question as long as I didn’t get into specifics? “I have to go to Chicago.”

His tail swished, whipping the bushes behind him. “Chicago is a dangerous place.”

So I’d heard. “There’s something there I need to get.”

He tilted his head, considering me. “You’re too young to have left something behind.”

“I’m doing it for someone else.”

“Ahh.” He sounded pleased. “Because of your kind heart.”

I smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t see kindness as a flaw. “Not this time.” I picked up my boots and glanced at the cottage, wondering if the guys would come looking for me. “I should get going. Thank you for bringing my bag.”

“It was quite humane of me, yes?” he asked with a purr.

I smiled. “Yes.”

“But not human.” His expression hardened. “Not
yet
.” And before I could react, his fist slammed into my forehead. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes and reality retreated, only this time there were no dreams to fill the void.

Consciousness returned with the fetid smell of blood.
Mine?
I wondered through the waves of pain crashing in my head. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the shadows. I was lying on my stomach on a hard surface. I tried to push myself up and found, first with annoyance, then fear, that my arms had gone numb from being pressed into the floor by my own body weight. Then a nerve path cleared in my brain, and I remembered how I’d gotten here.
Chorda.

I struggled to get up, but my wrists were bound together. Again, I caught the scent of blood in the air … and death, sweet and rotten. I rolled onto my side and found a girl on the floor next to me, returning my stare with blank eyes. Dead eyes.

The cry that tore out of my throat was savage. Flailing, I tried to kick the corpse away but couldn’t. I thrashed onto my back.

“Finally,” a voice rumbled out of the dark. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

Recognition hit like a lightning strike, searing my nerves, and then his face appeared above me, striped skin and gleaming fangs.
A beast that tears out people’s hearts
, Rafe had said. I began to gag.

“Stop making that noise!” The tiger-man gripped my jaw in his large hand, forcing my mouth shut. “You sound like an animal.”

Jerking my chin free, I flipped away — a mistake, for now I was face-to-face with the dead girl again.
Fabiola.
The girl who’d gone missing. Who’d known something was hunting her. I wanted to sob for the girl who’d been stuck in an abandoned building with only her sister for company. She looked like Alva, with her long, dark hair, gleaming necklaces, and lace-trimmed gown … which was torn open at the neckline, exposing the bloody, ragged hole in her chest.

Oh no, Rafe was right — Chorda
was
the rogue. He
had
been following me. I began to shake, hands and arms twitching uncontrollably. “You killed her….”

“A waste,” he said with a dismissive snuffle. “Her heart didn’t work.”

“Work?”
Breathe! Think.
But how could I with the stench of a corpse clogging my throat?

Gripping my arms, Chorda pulled me to a sitting position. “None of them worked.” He peered at me with luminous eyes.

I looked past his face, unable to bear the jittery excitement in his expression. Beyond him was a vast and decaying parlor with its windows and French doors boarded up from the inside.

“They weren’t human enough.” A low rumble grew within him and he shifted on his haunches. “But
you
are. You saved me from that hunter, and now you will save me from this curse.” He ran his hand through the fur on his chest, distaste twisting his features.

“The virus?” I shook my head in the face of his insanity. “I can’t. I —”

“You will,” he roared, spewing out foul breath.

What was wrong with me? Don’t make the crazy man angry! “I’m sorry! I’ll help you. I will. But I don’t know anything about Ferae.”

Letting go of my arms, he rose before me. “I don’t need what’s in your mind….”

I inhaled deeply, fighting for clarity. He was a psycho with a virus messing up his thinking. I had no weapon. No way to defend myself. How was I going to get away from him? As if in answer, an engine rumbled in the distance. The jeep!

With a roar, Chorda flew from the room into the foyer where shafts of light slashed through the shadows. He extended his fingers and his claws appeared as he peered through the paneled-glass window beside the front door.

As he looked, I listened and held in my scream. The jeep was too far away for anyone to hear me, and yelling for help would just enrage Chorda. I exhaled slowly, suddenly calm. Calm in my decision that I would rather die trying to escape than be dissected alive. Calm enough to remember that Alva’s father had insisted his daughters carry switchblades. Did Fabiola keep hers up her sleeve like Alva had?

I checked that the beast was still at the front door, and with my bound hands I reached for Fabiola’s wrist, only to snap my fingers back after a single touch. Her skin was cold, and her arm, stiff. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to run my fingertips over her velvet sleeve. And there it was — a lump. Maybe, please, a switchblade. Wincing as I leaned over Fabiola, I attempted to nudge the lump out of the girl’s sleeve. My head bobbed as I glanced up with every breath, terrified that Chorda had returned on silent, padded feet. Finally, a rounded metal edge poked out of Fabiola’s cuff.